


everything's the same (when the rain comes down)

by xsimplesoul



Series: let's go to the movies [3]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsimplesoul/pseuds/xsimplesoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, all Jesse needs is a scary guard cat, a rainy day, and his favorite girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything's the same (when the rain comes down)

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: Beca and Jesse are out of college and off to different coasts and Jesse suddenly decides to fly out to LA just to see Beca

To put it bluntly, life is boring.

Not that life is  _actually_ boring. He's doing amazing things at his job in New York, being on track to become the youngest Academy Award winning score composer. He has about seven years to beat Marvin Hamlisch, which was more than enough time for Jesse Swanson to achieve his dreams.

That part of his life wasn't boring at all.

However, ever since Beca moved out to Los Angeles, things have been  _boring_.

He leaves for work at six in the morning and gets off at three in the afternoon, then immediately goes to his shift at the bakery shop across his tiny apartment. He comes home around nine, or six in LA. By then, he's exhausted, but he tries not to show it when he's talking to his girlfriend.

They video chat often, text all the time, and even send the occasional snapchat every one in a while. He loves seeing her face, but he hates how he can't touch it, or kiss it, with the screen in the way and all.

* * *

Their last video chat session went a little something like this:

"My life is boring.

"That's not true."

"It's boring."

"I'm sorry the real world doesn't appreciate a good burst of spontaneous singing in public like I do. I hear strangers hate that."

"That was for a social experiment in Intro to Sociology!"

"Remember when that guy asked for your number when you sang "Drops of Jupiter"? Poor dude looked super flustered while picking out bell peppers."

"Nope, don't remember that. Not at all. You know why? Because I never sing spontaneously. That class was a joke and doesn't count."

_"Lay your weary head to rest! Don't you cry no more, oh!"_

That's when she pulls out her air guitar and mimics the first time they met. He can't even pretend to feign annoyance because she's too busy being adorably-badass for him to care about having just eaten his words. Instead, he laughs and sings along.

These moments were definitely  _not_  boring.

* * *

They're watching _The Parent Trap_ together through video chat when he gets inspired.

The minute they say "goodnight," Jesse's looking at flight numbers to LA for that weekend. Then, he's pulling out his suitcase to fill up for a visit to the Golden State. The next, he's on a plane and in the city of angels.

It's his first time there, but he knows exactly where Beca's dinky little apartment is at because of all the packages they send to each other. He recognizes it when he sees the scary stray guard cat that frequents her snapchat story.

It's two in the afternoon and he knows she's at work, so he sits against her door for about an hour until he falls asleep with the scary guard cat (whose name, he learns, is Pippin) balancing perfectly atop his folded knees.

Pippin is the thing that wakes him up. It's the cat's sudden scowl and unsheathed claws piercing into his knees that jolts him awake about two hours later. When he opens his eyes, he finds Beca staring at him, keys hanging loosely from her fingers. Her jaw is open slightly ajar, and her blue eyes were sparkling with tears.

"Jesse?"

Just like that, he's up on his feet and holding her close to him, all traces of his initial grogginess gone.

He's kissing the top of her head while she's clinging onto his chest. He's laughing and her body is shaking in disbelief.

And holy shit, it feels  _so good_  having her in his arms again.

* * *

The apartment is hers, but it screams  _them_.

There's her calendar, marked with a big red circle for November the fourth, the day before her birthday, that says, 'PICK JESSE UP LAX 5 PM.'

She has a short shelf in her entertainment system dedicated to her absolute favorite movies, mostly gifts from Jesse. Her collection was small, but it was slowly growing thanks to him.

Her (well, his) Treble hoodie on her bed.

The  _Jaws_  snow globe he bought her their junior year placed on her night stand. The flecks of plastic, sparkly human flesh floated around helplessly in the water, both hilarious and a "must-buy," in his opinion.

The candle from their picnic during Freshman year, its wick still white from its complete lack of use.

The American flag he waved around at Worlds slung over her La-Z Boy recliner.

His old-fashioned, handwritten letters littered everywhere around corners and nooks and crannies.

The decorative ghost that he sent her to get into the "Halloween spirit" hanging outside her doorway.

A stash of juice pouches in her fridge.

Their pictures taped to the wall, stuck to the refrigerator, crooked in rusty copper frames.

* * *

She takes him to a little food truck that sells Italian, Mexican, and Vietnamese food for dinner.

"I like the combination; keeps me feeling well-traveled. Cultured, even."

He snickers at that, scanning the menu until settles on a bowl of pho to go, while she orders herself a gyro.

"Do they know that gyros are Greek?" He whispers to her when they turn away, eyes flicking to anyone who might be in hearing distance.

She shrugs. "They're good, and that's all I care about."

"It's sort of worrisome, don't you think? What if I end up with poutine instead of pho?"

She pinches his bicep, his immediate reaction is to yelp and rub the spot soothingly. "You're such a nerd."

"Fine, I surrender. You win, geographically-confused food truck. You win!" He groans, hands admitting defeat as he slurps down the flavorful noodles. "I'll never doubt you again."

"See, this is why you trust me with these things. I'm always right."

"Okay, Miss I'm-Always-Right. What are your plans for this weekend?"

"Well, now that you're here, I get to play tourist with you. My boss let me have the next three days off, I can't wait to show you the recording studio, Jess. It's a little ways off of Universal, but I think we can squeeze it into our schedule."

She's excited to show him Los Angeles, her turf. He can tell she loves her city by the way she rambles on and on about every little thing with bright eyes and dimpled cheeks.

He loves her excitement; it's infectious. But there's one thing pulling at his thoughts, one thing that he's missed the most about them being  _together_ together.

"Alright, what's going on?" She finally confronts him after their food is finished cooking and they're on the short walk back to her apartment. Her elbows folded neatly as she challenges him with her eyes. There's a sliver of nervousness hiding under her front, and Jesse can't help but feel bad that he made whatever excitement that was there, vanish.

He offers her a sincere smile. "Nothing. I just love you, you know that?"

The look on her face softens a little, but she's not about to give up that easily. "I know that. But it's been four years, and I also happen to know when something is bugging you."

"So you definitely know that I love you?"

She nods, her eyes rolling into the back of her head at the repetition.

"It's just that— Okay, I love that you're super excited to show me around, but—"

"—But? You told me your life has been boring and now you're telling me that it's too much? What has New York done to you, you're an old man now!" She accuses lightly, holding her arms over her chest.

"What?! All I'm saying is that we should slow things down, with the scheduling and tour groups and landmarks and all."

He can't get over how scrunched her little face is. It's cute, seeing her go from challenging to pushy to defeat. His arm around her small frame pulls her closer so that she was slightly lopsided when they walked along the sidewalk.

"I just want to spend time with you."

"But you are—"

"Just you. No tourists, no screaming children, no fanny packs. Just  _you,"_ he gently squeezes her shoulder and pokes her nose with his other hand, stifling a laugh when she scrunches it in mock disgust.

"For the record, fanny packs are totally in style," she grumbles, surrendering her facade. "I just really wanted to make things  _not_  boring for you, I thought you'd love it if we visited all the movie sets and the Walk of Fame and Madame Toussaud's Wax Figures," she sighs.

"And I love that! I do, I really do. But, save it for your birthday week. Print out a list of things to do in Los Angeles and the surrounding area off of Google, and we'll do all of that then. We'll be the most obnoxious, stereotypical tourists that LA has ever seen," Jesse doesn't miss the way her face lights up at the suggestion (even with the added eye roll), and it makes his heart swell pathetically in his chest. "But now? I want to go home and watch a movie with you, with your feet in my lap as you try to distract yourself from not watching the film by catching popcorn kernels in your mouth and spitting them into my direction just to annoy me. Because I missed you, and watching movies through a Skype screen isn't the same without your nasty, saliva-lathered popcorn kernels hitting my cheek."

She laughs and uncrosses her arms to pat his cheek affectionately before pressing her lips to it. "Okay."

"And you're not mad?"

"No, just taken aback," she hums into his side, "doesn't seem very 'you'. The boring thing, I mean."

"I brought my swim trunks, so I'm not  _that_  boring. This New Yorker needs to get his tan on."

She looks up at his cheeky grin, and sure enough, it's transferred onto her own face.

"Good luck, because it's supposed to rain this weekend," she warns, the smile still tugging at her cheeks. It doesn't really help with trying to convey the 'direness' of the situation.

"Rain? In Los Angeles? Impossible."

"Extremely likely, actually."

"Well we better hurry up, then. I want to put those trunks into good use."

"Please don't tell me it's the one with lightsabers on it."

* * *

Because of the predicted forecast, the beach behind Beca's apartment is mostly empty, except for a few late joggers and their dogs. Beca tries again and again to convince him to not leave her apartment with just sandals and his swim trunks. It's nighttime, and it's cold, so she opts for his Treble hoodie and gym shorts. He pretends the temperature dip from day to night is no big deal, but she catches him shivering when he's not looking.

"It's  _freezing_! I told you to bring a jacket!"

He shakes his head. "Nope. Nope. The water is just fine, just fine!" He dips a toe into the ocean water, grinning confidently at his amused girlfriend. He splashes the water onto his chest and yowls at the cold sting. "The temperature is perfectly fine, come on in, Beca!"

"Yeah," she bites the inside of her cheek and swallows her laughter when Jesse tiptoes around in the tide, yelping as the water sprays his legs, "I don't think so."

His lower lip juts out in a pout, but Beca won't fall for it. She continuously shakes her head, while his gestures grow increasingly more exaggerated. He frantically waves his hands above his head and jumps in the water, though it looks ridiculous considering that he's only knee-deep in the water. His hands are clasped together, pleading to her, reaching for Beca as she stands her ground.

"Nope. Not budging."

"Fine. If you won't move, I will," he threatens, waggling his eyebrows playfully at his girlfriend. He runs out of the water and towards the petite brunette, who had gotten the hint and was running away from him. She tries to keep her stoic expression, but she can't help but laugh as he hobbles up to her and envelops her in a wet embrace.

She's squirming under his grasp, and the water is cold against her skin and dampens her hoodie, but she really doesn't care.

They end up on the sand somehow, with his body hovering over hers. The hoodie has vanished from her frame, leaving her in only a bra and the gym shorts. She's humming into his hair while he's busy working her body over with gentle kisses. By this time, all the night beachgoers have left, leaving the two alone with sand in the cracks and crevices of their bodies.

"This tanning thing isn't working," he mumbles into the crook of her neck, eyelids shut as he breathes in the smell of beach spray and light coconut on her skin.

She let's out a breathy laugh, her skin coated with a light sheen of sweat. "You're such a weirdo."

He smiles tiredly as he deciphers their most used phrase. "I love you, too."

* * *

She's curled into his side, snoring softly with his arms wrapped around her waist. His right arm tingled, asleep, under her weight, but it didn't matter. The familiarity was comforting.

It's been way too long since she's been sound asleep in his embrace.

She stirs awake eventually, sighing deeply as she turns over to bury her nose into his neck. He rubs her bare back and presses his lips on her forehead, murmuring a quiet "good morning."

"It's raining," she mumbles, her voice heavy with leftover sleep.

Jesse nuzzles her hair, breathing in the smell of the salty sea and a hint of coconut clinging onto her scalp. "I have great timing, huh?" He muses, voice muffled against her silky tresses.

He can feel her smile pressed against his flesh. "Guess we're stuck in my apartment."

He grins and pulls away from her to pin her underneath him in a surprise attack. He peppers kisses on her neck, marking a trail to her breasts.

"Guess we're stuck in your apartment."

* * *

They spend the rest of Saturday lounging around, listening to the rain beat outside her window while they make mac and cheese from scratch. He walks around her place without anything on except a pair of grey boxers like it was normal. They help California's drought problem by showering together. They curl up on the couch watching movies and documentaries on Netflix, spit-covered popcorn kernels scattered around the floor. Pippin mewls and claws at her door, to which Jesse responds by letting the shivering cat in and feeding him a bowl of shredded chicken, leftover from their dinner. Their day is capped off with him whispering sweet nothings into her ear and the occasional sharp intake of her breath, and three rounds of roshambo to determine who was going to apologize to her neighbors in the morning for being too loud.

Sunday's not much different. He finds one of the flannels he brought with him hidden underneath her pillow. He doesn't bring it up. Instead, he wishes it a silent farewell because he knows Beca looks ten times better in it than he ever will.

She can't help singing his favorite song around the apartment, dancing shamelessly to the beat of her own voice in her underwear, while he flips pancakes and lets her do her thing. He watches her, occasionally chipping in his own voice to mesh with hers, with a large grin on his face and his mind getting used to this— an apartment for two, breakfast at ten thirty, and the occasional guard cat meowing at the door.

When the rain finally stops, they venture outside for a walk around Los Angeles. The streets aren't as busy as New York's, so it was a welcome change in Jesse's book.

"You know, I could really get used to this," he says to the girl clinging affectionately to his arm. He feels her squeeze his bicep and smiles down at her momentarily before setting his sights on the crosswalk in front of them.

"Oh?" She says, raising a brow.

"Yeah. I'd never be bored here."

Her next comment surprises him.

"Then move in with me. It's been two days and it's..." she pauses to look at the glint in his eye, trying to find the right words.

He urges her on with a patient nod.

"It feels like home when you're here."

* * *

Exactly two months later, their fridge is filled with juice pouches, their movie shelves are dangerously low on space, and Beca and Jesse are eating gyros and pho on their couch in their pajamas as Pippin, adopted officially as of three weeks ago, purrs in contentment.


End file.
